Before Glass Joe
by SomecallmeMichelle
Summary: The final training Mac had with Doc, before Mac enters the minor circuit of the World Video Boxing Association.


"Come on Mac, push!"

Mac briefly wondered if the passerbies that he could see through the window and through his position, lying down on the mat, pushing himself upwards doing stretches, thought he was some kind of pregnant woman giving labor to a baby. And in that case Doc would be the father...He snickered at the idea, there was no need to let Doc be the father of someone, if he screamed and yelled at him like that, and he wasn't his son, he shuddered to think of just what would become of the son, or daughter, of the ex-boxer.

Not that Mac knew if the Ex-heavyweight champion had family, the other man was quiet like always when it came to that question. Though information was readily present to him in this day and age, if he were to search for it, even more so when the person he was interested in was a former person of the high rings of the sport of Boxing, he abstained from doing so. Whenever he brought it up, Doc got all vague and refused to keep that thread of the conversation going. Usually he changed the focus to the fact that he still had a small amount of fat or that he wasn't pushing himself as hard as he could, and he was assigned more tasks, maybe, he deemed, as a sort of punishment Doc gave him for daring to ask.

Mac could see the white sneakers of his trainer, the african american man was looking at him and urging him to go on. It was part of his training, this stretching routine, though some would think that Boxing implied, more than anything, punching and hitting the opponent, with all the strength you could have and hope for a knockout, Mac knew better. It was a sport of honor, a sport where two men went in and fought with all they went. And sure punching was part of it, a very big part of it, indeed, but it wasn't the _only_ part. For a Boxer to stand a chance he (or she, there were female competitions now) had to be quick, they had to be able to dodge lightning fast moves, and to prance around the ring. Because if you got cornered your chances of winning were few and far.

Mac "Little" pondered all of this while pushing and stretching his body. This was just the warm up, ever since he had decided to become a boxer and landed this trainer, Doc, he had been pushed to his limit in more ways than one. Every day there was another exercise that would make him groan, another exercise that would make him moan in pain or tiredness.

So this wasn't even the half of it, when he was all sweaty and tired, then he would start to dodge. It seemed needlessly cruel, but then again, as Doc had said, if it came down to a three round fight, then he would be tired when the bell rung for the last time to signalise the beginning of the last round. And if he wasn't used to dodging while tiring he'd be hit, with extreme prejudice even.

And Mac had the urge to want to be a champion, maybe if he was good enough, Doc would teach him his special technique, and then he might even become the next champion of the World circuit.

Hey, it was a dream, but it was his dream, right? He wanted that more than anything in the world, to become, and his eyes glittered with what looked suspiciously like stars, the champion. World Circuit champion at that!

But for now, it was only a matter of starting his first Minor Circuit fight. Doc had treated of most of the paperwork and he was ready to enter. He also had the equipment necessary, and he was all set. With the **WVBA** (World Video Box Association) sponsoring these leagues, to treat small up and comers and dare them to rise up the ranks, it was a chance he couldn't leave unattended, or let it pass . The small boy, that came from the Bronx, which was perceptible by the accent he had, was ready to take the fight to the next level. And he was going to use the fact that the circuits, which usually toured across the country, were coming to New York. In a way he wondered how it had taken so much time to reach one of the most populous cities in the country. But he knew the answer, it had all started on the other side of the country, and it was moving East, slowly.

But now they were coming and he was sure that he would fight through the leagues and rise up. He was worried, of course, fighting came naturally to him, but he could still get hurt. He had heard rumors, people who cheated and people who faked out and hit below the nards, which was, in essence another dishonorable thing. Not akin to the spirit of Boxing, as he believes it to be.

Stretching done, Mac lifts himself up, knowing better than to expect the help of Doc, whom, last time he was asked, told him he was not going to be there to pick him up during the fights. Mac knows he's right, but can't help but feel like a little support would be appreciated. Still if this is what it took.

"Now come, let's run!"

Ah the running, Mac hated this part of the exercises. It was the part where Doc would get on a bicycle and he was expected to follow. Trouble is, despite the way Doc eats his chocolate candy bars, and isn't the lightest ex boxer around, he still is fast. Leaving Mac struggling to keep up. And he's at the budding age, the age where he's at his strongest, there's no way he's ever going to be more in shape. So how in the heck can he expect to keep this exercise?

But he knows there's no use commenting on this, Doc may look silly, but he had made it pretty clear, Mac is expected to obey, when and how Doc expects him to. Mac doesn't know why, but he knows Doc won't stand for disrespect, he might even leave him be and, with him, there goes the dream of being a champion.

As he puts on his pink jacket, he prepares to run. New York city isn't the most open city to running and cycling, so he isn't really certain on where they will go this time. Doc likes to keep the course a surprise, so he doesn't get too comfortable with what he can expect. He knows one thing though, anything's better than that time they had crossed into Jersey, he didn't like to talk about that time.

Mac Pushes his legs upwards, his knees almost to his chest, he has stretched so now all that remains is his warming up even further. The sweat falls freely, though it's rare to be a sunny day in New York, today is one of the few. He curses his luck, knowing that this will only make it harder.

Doc cycles through yelling at him to move faster. Doc has it easier, when he's the one with the bicycle but Mac won't say as much, though he feels that way. He's only a beginner and Doc is an expert, he must know what he's doing.

"You know back in my day, me and my trainer ran this whole distance!" - It was like Doc was mocking him, but Mac was interested. Doc had hung about with some of the greatest boxers of all time, and, as a fan of the sport, Mac always loved to hear those tales. - "And more! Unfortunately my legs don't allow it nearly as much!" - Mac realised that Doc was just reminiscing and not about to tell a story so instead he focused on keeping up a nice pace, he breathed at a rhythm, one two, three, four. One , two, three, four.

Doc smiles back at Mac, who looks at the older man with a hard to decipher expression on his face. It's a mixture of several things, tiredness, determination, happiness, yet all that mixed in with a sense of relief as he knows that whenever Doc rambles on about something, he slows down, so he didn't have to push himself to exhaustion, when there's still more to come. It gave him a look of serenity.

Doc figures out what he's thinking very quickly. Mac is so easy to read, like an open book, and he has trained lots of young shots over the years. They always tend to give up, though he doesn't know why, is he really that tough? Well back in his day he had it even tougher!

He decides to prove to the young boy, Mac, that he's still got it, he pushes his tired old legs against the pedals of his bicycle and proppels himself forward. A bicycle can go very fast when it's at an incline, moving downwards. Ev en more so when it has a determined ex boxer pushing it it, double so when that boxer is overweight.

Mac couldn't believe his sights. This broke pattern! And Doc was all about patterns, he was of the opinion a good boxer notices patterns in his opponent while doing his best to try and not to have one of their own.

"Wait up!" - Mac tried to push himself further and further, replacing his heavy workout running with one more akin to a sprint. Luckily for him they were on a relatively short incline and as soon as the incline became plainer, Doc lowered speed. Mac caught up to him and panted.

"It's enough for today…" - Doc looked at Mac's disheveled state and smiled. - "But now we got to go back!"

"Oh no…" - Little Mac didn't really know if he could make it to the boxing gym which Doc owned and still have the energy for dodging and running around the ring, while jumping. But he had to try, if not, then, well he was going to have to admit defeat, to himself even, and that was something he wasn't prepared to do. He had to do it.

The walk back was at a relatively slower pace. Doc had told him how important it was to rest after a workout (though Little Mac was sure that was as most for Doc as it was for himself), so they walked and did some light jogging instead of running all the way back. Even with the way their walking and jogging was at a more calm pacing, it still burned Mac's legs. It were several miles after all.

So now came the part where Doc came into the ring himself and made Mac dodge or, whenever he couldn't, block. It was Mac's favorite part of the training, even if he didn't manage to block each and every blow. And Doc's blows still hurt a lot, even with the advanced age (that he didn't like to see being brought up), he still had the strength of punch that a younger man might have.

Mac was ready, though the stretches and the running were laborious, he still had time to distract himself with thoughts. Not so much here in the ring. Here he had to take special attention to the opponent and dodge accordingly.

Case in Point, there came Doc's first punch. It was a slow punch, leaving him wide open, Mac would have taken the opening to strike back, except he knew from previous experiences that Doc would use the unbalance to counter. He had watched the old videos of Doc fighting, and though this was no Star Punch, the technic Doc had created and called so, they were still a terrible trick. Cockiness led to defeat, as Doc had told him.

They danced the dance of boxing for a while, Mac dodging as best as he could, he still got hit once or twice, and the blows left him seeing stars, but he quickly got up. In a real boxing match he only had 10 seconds to do so, so he wouldn't allow himself to rest here, not when he was so close from his first match.

As they split apart with a touch of their gloves, an imaginary bell being rung (No bell ringer was present), Doc smiled at Mac, which, despite the way he was tired, smiled back. It was a hopeful smile, and at that moment Doc knew the kid, whom had plenty of spirit, would do just fine. Specially if it was still the same first boxer in the minor circuit that he remembered seeing when he had been invited to.

"Don't worry...I hear Glass Joe is a total pushover." - Doc had somehow gotten himself another candy bar, this one hadn't been in his pockets, so it hadn't melted. He offered one to Mac, which chose instead to snack on a crunchy bar of cereal. Nutritious but in no way comparable to the chocolate Doc liked so much.

Mac was familiar with the stats, Glass joe had 99 loses to 1 win, it was very encouraging to him, but somehow someone had lost to him...what if he was another victim? He shook his head, he couldn't contemplate such thoughts.

Doc put a big hand to Mac's back, whether due to his hands being almost as large as trash bins lids, or due to the fact that Mac was small, they took most out of his back.

"I know you can do it...I trust you." - And it was true, though he had been pushing the boy as hard as he could ,the boy had refused to give up, and this was one of the lessons he wanted to teach to the kid. He would learn it in time, _perseverance always overcomes cockiness_.

The ways of the Doc were strange, yes, but they had a point, even if it took Mac several times repeating the same exercises to get that point. He had been taught by the best, after all.

The older man felt like cracking up one of his bad jokes. Some of those jokes were actually decent, but they were always told at such a tone…

"Hey Mac, why did the mushroom go to the party?"

Ever since Doc had gotten access to jokes magazines he had been unstoppable in his old jokes. It was no use refusing to accept the inevitable for it was inevitable, whatever Mac said, Doc would keep on pestering him.

"Why, Doc?"

"Because he was a fungi! Get it? Fungi? It sounds like fun guy!"

This was Doc's biggest problem, even if people got the incredibly cheesy and stupid joke, he just felt compelled to explain it. It was a joke killer, explaining the joke like that.

"Hey Doc…" - Did Mac dare? Doc and him were having what he would call a guy moment, a bro's moment, would he dare ruin it with one of his stupid questions? He had already opened his mouth, so he guessed that he would.

"Yes, Mac?" - If Doc was offended by Mac not laughing at his joke, he didn't show it. At first Mac had laughed , but as he got himself more and more comfortable with the african american large man, he stopped doing that. His jokes were rarely funny when he explained them after all.

"About the jacket…." - It was a conversation he had been meaning to have with Doc for a while, the jacket he had loaned him...it was useful when they were running ,yes, specially in the cold winter of New York, when it rained or snowed, but there was one thing that bothered him about it. To Doc's raised eyebrow he concluded his train of thought. - "Why is it pink?"

Doc had a good jolly laugh at that, just one of his lessons to Mac, if he wasn't comfortable in his own skin while wearing pink, it was unlikely he'd be comfortable in front of a crowd. Many wished for the adulation, few could stand it after a while. But instead he just told him.

"A pretty boy sure as yourself...surely you'll figure it…"

Mac was mortified.

 **The end**


End file.
